Morgoth's Mercy
by Imladviel
Summary: My unifinished attempt in making readers to see how Mary-Sueish Niphredil is... this was going to be some grand allegory about the war in Iraq...


_**M o r g o t h ' s M e r c y**_

**Being an account of the **_**War of Near-Khand**_** in the Years 34-46 of the Fourth Age**

**By Niphredil Baggins**

'_Ni tullë, turnë, centë, nucumnië.'_

'_I came, I won, I saw, I was humbled.' _

_- Aragorn Elessar*_

**Chapter One: On the March**

I was offered a ride on someone's horse, but I decided to walk. It felt right. If my men walked, so would their captain. By the fifth day I caught myself wishing I had no feet, or at least that I could swap feet with someone else. Preferably someone taller. I also wished I had no ears. It seems that no matter how big an army is, there is only a limited number of marching songs they know. I never wanted to hear 'Miriel of Morthond' again, nor 'Sun City, Moon Valley, Star-blessed Bridge'. I won't even mention the rude songs. The seventh day, I hated even 'Barad-Dûr has fallen' – and that tells a lot, for the six previous days my voice had rung the loudest at the refrain…

'The wheels of fate have turned /

In Orodruin was burned /

Isildur's Bane the Evil Ring /

Thank the halflings, said the King.'

…Ok, so it's not high poetry…

The eighth day I was bored of Legolas' endless recital of elven poetry to the more patient Gimli. The ninth day, I was bored even of teasing him in that nasty way I'd developed – every time he spoke Quenyan I mistranslated it into Sindarin for the amusement of everyone else… by the way, it is possible to make an elf blush. You just have to embarrass him by surprise.

I got pretty good at it:

'…and each time that he slew Húrin cried: _Aurë entuluva!…_' Legolas was telling, when I interrupted:

'…I'd count your heads but I ran out of fingers…'

…That one got Gimli glaring at me so I had to be silent for a while. They are very embarrassed about the way my father reported their participation at the Battle of Helm's Deep – remember; he heard the story second-hand from Merry and Pippin who heard it Manwë-alone-knows-where. And Gimli was a captain, like me, so I couldn't tease him _quite_ so much.

Oh, now you must be asking how come Niphredil Baggins, who'd never killed anything that talked, was appointed captain when Legolas wasn't. The joke is, he said no thanks. I said no thanks as well but he said it first and anyway King Elessar always takes his side… On account of poor little me being a knight sworn to his majesty's service he commanded me to be captain to an unit of archers… and then Legolas made one of the worst mistakes in his long, long life – he volunteered to help me. Which meant that technically, I outranked him. Which meant, me being me, that is being one nasty little bugger, I made his life miserable even when I tried not to. More of that later.

You see - it just occurred to me that I'm a horrible chronicler. I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Niphredil Baggins, the only child of Frodo and Tinwen Baggins. I'm an archer, a good one. That should be impossible because I'm short and skinny – but my secret is simple: I cheat. My bow is a magical one. I was born on Tol Eresseä; I know a lot of legendary people and after some embarrassing adventures (I got other people in deep trouble, was involved in a Brandybuck family scandal, caused a Brandybuck family scandal, ran away…) and ended up knight of Gondor. The irony of life. No matter how hard I try life keeps spoiling me. No wonder I'm such a rotten little midget. It seems too many blessings equal a curse. And am I blessed or what – my mother is a Maia, her best friends include Galadriel and Eönwë, not to mention good old Gandalf, oh, and incidentally, my father saved the world…

So.

There I was, spoiled child dressed up as a soldier, marching toward the War of Khand. And for the first ten days all I could think of was my own pain and boredom.

We marched from Minas Anor (former Minas Tirith) across the Great Bridges at Osgiliath, through Ithilien, following the very road that King Elessar once led the Armies of the West towards the Black Gate. Now that I think of it, I hardly remember the scenery. The restored Ithilien, the Black Mountains. I could have learned a lot. I didn't even learn to command. To give orders, sure, but not to take responsibility – why bother, Legolas was so good at it, he didn't mind.

The tenth day happened to be my thirty-third birthday, the Fifteenth of March. About noon we came within sight of the ruins of what once was Morannon, the Black Gate. The army rested on the field of victory, I stood as if rooted, gazing upon the empty mountain pass, the piles of stones, the burial mounds, the flowers that grew upon the mounds. I felt as if all the thirty-three years of my brief life had suddenly attacked me. The only mental image I had had of the place was my father's vivid description of the impenetrable fortress that forced him to turn back and trust Gollum through the marshes. And I had imagined the plain full of ash. It was still so, but in the ash grass and flowers had taken root. I wept.

I was taken back to my early childhood in blessed Eresseä. Back to my father's stories and the smoke of his pipe. And then the end of my innocence: the funeral of old Bilbo. Death had entered my life then, and now, at Cormallen, I knelt down and wept for I feared death might take my father any day while I was gone. And so did I lose a battle to eleven years of memories.

Again I saw myself, older now, trained by Eönwë. If only I had listened better. He had so much to teach and I wanted to learn so little. Just to shoot arrows.

* The quote is my own invention. It's supposed to be Quenyan. Based on another set of words all too familiar: _'Veni, vidi, vici.' 'I came, I saw, I won.' – Julius Caesar_


End file.
